Some time had passed since the "Grecian" had entered the Mediterranean.
We had not been idle during the time--now cruising along the coast of
Spain and France, now down that of Italy, now away to Malta, sometimes
off to the East among the Greek Islands. We had taken a good many
prizes; indeed, I may say that all our expeditions had been planned with
judgment, and carried out with vigour. I had a very happy time on
board, for the men treated me with kindness, and I was so young that
even the officers took notice of me. To Mr Bramston, especially, I
became much attached. As he had known me in my childhood, he took more
notice of me than anyone else. It has been my lot through life to lose
many kind friends, but I must acknowledge that they have been as often
replaced by others. When Mr Schank heard from home, he never failed to
send for me or my mother, to give us an account of the Little Lady;
indeed, Mr Bramston and others, as well as our Captain, took a warm
interest in her, and always seemed glad to hear that she was going on
well. Altogether, we were looked upon as a very happy and fortunate
ship. However, a dark reverse was to come.
We were returning from Malta, and had run some way along the coast of
Italy, when the look-out from the mast-head discovered a sail on the
lee-bow. It was just daybreak. The sun rising over the distant land,
which lay like a blue line on our starboard side, shed his beams on the
upper sails of the stranger. The frigate was kept away a little, and
all sail made in chase. We continued standing on for a couple of hours,
when the wind drew more aft, and with studden-sails rigged on both sides
we glided rapidly over the smooth water, gaining considerably on the
chase. She must have discovered us, for she was now seen to rig out
studden-sails, and to make every attempt to escape. She was pronounced
to be a large polacca ship; and from the way she kept ahead of us, it
was very evident she was very fast. This made us more eager than ever
to come up with her. The general opinion was that she was a
merchantman, very likely richly-laden, and would undoubtedly become an
easy prize. Our people were in high spirits, making sure that they were
about to add a good sum to their already fair amount of prize-money. I
cannot say that these thoughts added much to my pleasure, considering
the very small share which would fall to my lot, but my father would
probably be very much the richer. In those days, it was no uncommon
thing for a seaman to return from a cruise with a couple of hundred
pounds in his pocket; and of course, under those circumstances, the
share even of a warrant officer would be very considerable. Mr Schank,
I doubt not, was thinking of the many comforts he would be able to
afford his family at home; and Mr Bramston, who had another reason for
wishing to add to his worldly store, was hoping that he might be able to
splice his dear Mary all the sooner, and leave her better provided for
when he had to come away again to sea.
Hour after hour passed by. There was the chase still ahead and though
we had gained considerably on her, still there were many probabilities
of her escaping. The fear was that we might not get up to her before
nightfall, and that then in the darkness she might escape. The men were
piped to dinner, and of course the conversation at the mess-tables ran
on the probabilities of our capturing the chase.
Some time afterwards, just as the watch on deck had been relieved, the
main topsail gave a loud flap against the mast. The other sails, which
had before been swelling out, now hung down.
"The wind is all up and down the masts," I heard my father remark, with
a sigh; and going on deck, such we found indeed to be the case.
Scarcely a cat's-paw played over the surface of the water, while our
canvas hung down entirely emptied of wind. It was a time when Captain
Cobb would have almost cracked his cheeks with blowing for the purpose
of regaining it. Captain Oliver, however, did no such thing, but,
taking his glass, directed it towards the chase.
"She is in our condition," he observed to Mr Schank.
"She is not likely to get away from us, at all events," remarked the
First-Lieutenant, taking a look at her also.
"I think, Schank; we may, however, make sure of her with the boats,"
observed the Captain. "It will not do to give her a chance of escaping,
and she may get the breeze before we do."
"Certainly, sir," answered Mr Schank. "It will be as well to secure
her, for fear of that."
"Well, as there is no great glory to be gained, I will let Mr Mason and
Bramston go in the boats," said the Captain.
The frigate's boats were accordingly called away. The two lieutenants
and my father and a couple of midshipmen went in them, with altogether
about seventy men. It was a strong force, but the ship was very likely
to have sweeps, and even a merchantman might offer some resistance
unless attacked by overpowering numbers. The people cheered as they
pulled off, and urged them to make haste with the prize. Never did an
expedition start with fairer prospects of success, and we fully hoped,
before many hours were over, to have the chase under English colours.
She was between four and five miles away at the time; but though the
pull was a long one, the men laid their backs to the oars for fear of a
breeze springing up before they could get alongside. My mother had
shown considerable anxiety on former occasions when my father had gone
away on dangerous expeditions, yet, in the present instance, she seemed
quite at ease, as there appeared to be no danger or difficulty in the
enterprise. Though no man ever loved his wife better than my father did
my mother, yet this never prevented him volunteering whenever he felt
himself called upon to do so, however hazardous and trying the work in
hand. As may be supposed, no one thought of turning in that night. All
hands were on the watch, expecting to see the ship towed by the boats,
or some of the boats returning with an account of their capture. The
Captain and First-Lieutenant walked the deck with easy paces, every now
and then turning their night glasses in the direction of the ship,
hoping to see her, but still she did not appear. At length the men
began to wonder why the ship had not come in sight, or why the boats did
not return to give notice of what had occurred. Afterwards they grew
more and more anxious, and they imparted their anxiety to my mother.
Our gunner, Mr Hockey, who was somewhat superstitious, now declared
that he had dreamed a dream which foreboded disaster. The substance of
it I never could learn, nor did he say a word about the matter till some
time had passed and the boats did not appear. He was a man of proverbs,
and remarked that "a pitcher which goes often to the well gets broken at
last," by which he insinuated that as we had been hitherto successful in
our expeditions, a reverse might be expected. All the boats had been
sent away. The Captain's gig was under repair, but there was a small
dinghy remaining. Mr Hockey went aft, and volunteered to pull in the
direction the ship had been seen, in the hopes of ascertaining what had
become of the boats. The Captain was as anxious apparently as he was.
"Certainly, Mr Hockey," he answered.
Just then the sound of oars in the distance floated over the calm water.
"Stay, there are the boats," he said.
They approached very slowly. At first it was hoped that they might be
towing the ship; but though they were evidently drawing near, no ship
could be distinguished. At length they came in sight. The Captain
hailed them. The voice of a young midshipman answered: "Sad news, sir!
Sad news!"
"What has happened, Mr Hassel? Where is the ship?"
"Beaten back, sir, beaten back!" was the answer, and the speaker's voice
was almost choked. The boats, as they got alongside, were seen to be
full of people, but they were lying about over the thwarts in confused
heaps, those only who were at the oars appearing to move. My mother was
at this moment fortunately below. The gunner came down and entreated
her to remain there. I, however, had gone up on deck, and was eagerly
looking about, expecting to see my father arrive. Mr Hassel was the
first to come up the side. He staggered aft to the Captain to make his
report. Meantime whips were rove, and, one after one, those who that
afternoon had left the frigate in high health and spirits were hoisted
up dead and mangled in every variety of way. Nearly thirty bodies were
thus brought on deck. Many others were hoisted up and carried
immediately below, where the surgeon attended them, and of the whole
number only seven were able to walk the deck steadily. I eagerly looked
out for my father. He was not among those unhurt. Among the dead I
dared not look. I hurried below, hoping to see him under the hands of
the surgeon, but neither was he there. My heart sank within me. I
hastened to the main-deck. There, with a lantern, I met my poor mother
frantically scanning the faces of the slain, who were laid out in a
ghastly row. Eagerly she passed along, bending over the pallid features
of those who a few hours before had been so full of life and courage,
jokes escaping their lips. Now as she looked at one, now at another, a
glance told her that the corpse was not that of her husband.
"Oh! Mother! Mother! Where is father?" I cried out at length, as I
caught sight of her.
"I know not, my boy, I know not," she answered. "Oh! Burton, Burton!
Where are you? Has no one seen my husband? Can anyone tell me of my
husband? Where is he? Where is he?" she frantically exclaimed, running
from one to the other, when she found that he was not among those
brought on board.
"The boatswain!" said some one. "Bless her poor heart, I don't like to
utter it, but I saw him knocked overboard as he was climbing up the
polacca's side. He would not have let go had it not been for a thrust
in his shoulder, and he was hit, I know, while he was still in the
boat."
"Who is that you speak of?" asked my mother, hearing the man's voice.
"Bless your heart, Mrs Burton, but I am sorry to say it," answered Bill
Houston, one of the few who had escaped unhurt. "I was close to him,
but he fell by me before I could stretch out a hand to help him, and I
doubt, even if we had got him on board, it would have been much the
better for him, he seemed so badly hurt. I did not hear him cry out or
utter a sound."
The lantern my mother had been holding dropped from her hand as she
heard these words. All hope was gone. "Oh I give me back my husband I
give me back my husband!" she shrieked out. "Why did you come away
without him?"
"Oh! Mother! Mother! Don't take on so!" I exclaimed, running up to
her. She put her hands on my shoulders and gazed in my face.
"For you, Ben, I would wish to live, otherwise I would rather be down in
the cold sea along with him." Then again she cried out frantically for
my poor father. Her grief increased mine. Seeing the state she was in,
Bill King, who had remained near her, hurried down to fetch his wife,
who was attending on the wounded. She did her best to soothe my poor
mother's grief, and not without difficulty she was led away to my
father's cabin; and there, placed on his bed, she found some relief in
tears. I did my best to comfort her, but I could do little else than
weep too. Perhaps that was the best thing I could do; there is nothing
like sympathy.
"Oh! My boy! My boy!" she exclaimed, "you are still left to me; but
the day may come when you will be taken away, as your poor father has
been, and I shall be all alone--alone! Alone!"
Then she burst forth in an Irish wail such as I had never heard before.
It was curious; because, though an Irish woman, her accent, under
ordinary circumstances, was but slightly to be detected. Mrs King,
having done all she could, returned to her duties among the wounded, of
whom there were upwards of thirty, several of them mortally.
From Bill Houston, who had come to inquire for my mother, shortly
afterwards, I learned the particulars of what had occurred. The boats
approached the ship, all hands being fully persuaded that they had
little more to do than to climb up her sides and take possession. As,
however, they drew near her, and were just about to dash alongside, a
tremendous fire of grape, musketry, and round-shot was opened on them
from her ports, which were suddenly unmasked. In spite of this,
although numbers were hit, Mr Mason ordered them to board the ship.
Scarcely had he uttered the words than a shot laid him low, poor Mr
Bramston being wounded at the same time. Still the attempt to board was
made, but as they climbed up the sides they found that boarding nettings
were triced up the whole length of the ship, while pikes were thrust
down on them, and a hot fire of musketry opened in their faces. Again
and again they attempted to get on board, and not till nearly all were
killed or wounded did they desist from the attempt. Young Mr Hassel,
the midshipman, being the only officer left alive, then gave the order
to retreat, though it was not without difficulty that they could push
off from the ship's sides. The darkness of the night saved them from
being utterly destroyed. The enemy, probably, had not been aware of the
tremendous effect of their own fire, and expected another attack from
our men, or they would undoubtedly have continued firing at the boats
after they had shoved off. Some distance had been gained, however,
before the ship again commenced firing, and the aim being uncertain,
very few of her shot took effect.
The next day was the saddest I had ever known. Our kind young Captain
felt the loss more than anyone. Really, it seemed as if his heart would
break as he walked along the main-deck, where our dead shipmates were
laid out. He paid a visit also to my mother, and endeavoured to comfort
her as well as he could.
"I owe your brave husband much, Mrs Burton," he said. "We have been
shipmates a good many years altogether, and he more than once saved my
life; I cannot repay him, but I can be a friend to your boy, and I will
do my utmost to be of assistance to you. I cannot heal your grief, and
I cannot tell you not to mourn for your husband, but I will soothe it as
far as I can."
Then came the sad funeral. Had the frigate been engaged in a desperate
action with a superior force we could scarcely have lost so many men as
we had done in this unfortunate expedition. I thought the Captain would
break down altogether as he attempted to read the funeral service. Two
or three times he had to stop, and by a great effort recover his
composure. There were the two lieutenants and a young midshipman, and
upwards of twenty men all to be committed to the ocean together.
Curiosity brought me up to see what was going forward, and though I
looked on quietly for some time I at length burst into bitter tears. I
thought there is my poor father--he had to go overboard without any
service being read over him.